


Fix

by AngelicSentinel



Series: almost, your kiss [3]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSentinel/pseuds/AngelicSentinel
Summary: “I-I’ll let you go just this once,” the detective says, looking away. “Don’t let me catch you again.”





	Fix

**Author's Note:**

> **Kiss Prompt 3** : kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

Kaito sits on the rooftop of a small apartment building, watching the task force scurry below.

He's barefoot, kicking his feet against the edge of the building, hanging down to oblivion. White fabric rustles around his shins in the cool breeze. It feels so good. He feels so free.

It's one of his favorite dresses, for all he doesn't wear it very often. There's the smallest hint of blue at the hem, and a blue ribbon of fabric at the waist. The concrete is warm in the spring morning, and at seven stories up he's got a good vantage point of what's going on below.

So he watches, perfectly content.

His toes and fingers are delicately painted near the same bright blue as the fabric at his waist. Always a danger on a heist night, especially since there's a chance he might lose a glove and he can't remove the polish quickly, but everything had turned out all right. He kind of likes the possibility of discovery anyway.

He doesn't know what to call it, this thing he does. He knows how it started of course,  but he doesn't know how it developed into _this._

Hastily rearranging his hair in the mixed baths to appear feminine is one thing. Changing into a schoolgirl to avoid detection is another. With his slender frame, disguising as women made sense, especially since they tended to be overlooked because everyone knew the phantom thief was male.

But at some point, it had turned into something more. A series of lines, crossed and crossed and crossed, until he ended up here.

Sure, he can claim it is to avoid detection by the task force, but in reality, Kaito just feels like looking pretty today. He doesn't know how to describe it, even to himself, but he loves the way the cotton feels against his skin, swishing around his legs, the rattle of bangles around his wrist, the way the fabric hugs his body.

And he wants to watch the sunrise for once.

Sunsets he's seen many of, days dying and bathing everything in red. Sunrises are far rarer for the one who haunts the night, orange and pink and brilliant rebirth.

And so he watches it above, watches them down below, letting his feet swing.

It's such a pretty day.

Kaito watches the sun rise for a long time, letting the sunlight bathe him in warmth. He allows himself to smile, to soak it in.

Footsteps sound behind him, and Kaito closes his eyes. Ah, he knows better than to think he hasn't been followed, though he was hoping he hadn't. But whoever it is doesn't say anything.

Down below, Nakamori finally finds the jewel hidden in his coat pocket, sending the task force into a frenzy like a disturbed anthill.

Good.

A minute passes. Then another. Eventually, the curiosity gets the better of him, and Kaito rises to his feet, tucking his hands behind him, and turns.

It's the great detective, and he's standing there with a strange expression on his face, soccer ball in hand. Kaito would almost call it confusion, or hesitance.

“May I help you?” Kaito asks quietly. He feels an abrupt sense of loss as reality sets back in. The peace of the quiet morning is over too soon, and soon he will be stuck in a form of expression that binds him as thoroughly as any chain.

The detective's eyes fall down the length of his body and to his feet, and Kaito can't help but curl his toes in an attempt to hide the color on them. They drag back up and linger, and Kaito almost feels exposed like this. He was certain he'd gotten away.

He'd underestimated the detective yet again.

“I thought—I was almost certain that—” the detective stammers. He drops the soccer ball, kicks it from knee to knee to foot to foot back to knee to head before letting it fall against the cradle of his foot, setting it down on the rooftop.

“Yes?” Kaito says, tilting his head. A strand of hair from the wig falls into his face, and he brushes it back.

The detective swallows. “What are you doing up here? You're close to the edge.”

Aren’t they all? Kaito half-turns, looking at the rising sun. The detective's gasp is audible, but Kaito merely says, “Watching the sunrise. You're welcome to watch it with me, if you'd like.”

“I shouldn't,” he says.

“Your loss.” Kaito crosses his arms, hugging himself tightly, and he wonders what he sees. He turns his head back towards the sun. The sky is a brilliant gold, and the sun covers the rooftops in a sparkle of treasure.

Despite his words, he comes and stands beside Kaito,  and they watch as the golden light spreads.

After some time, with regret in his voice, Kaito says, “I should be going now.”

A hand grabs his wrist firmly. “I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Kid.”

“Let go of me,” Kaito says, voice soft steel. He doesn't deny it, though. There's no point in it. They both know. Denial would only be lip service, and Kaito isn’t in the mood. Not today.

The detective tightens his grip.

“You're hurting me!” Kaito near whines, voice perfectly calculated to manipulate, attempting to pull away, but his grip is firm, so Kaito pulls hard, then stops applying opposite directional force.

The detective pulls Kaito into his arms, stumbling back a few steps from the inertia, their faces awfully close together, close enough Kaito's breast forms are pressed against his chest.

The detective stills, solid as stone. “Drop the disguise, Kid,” he says, voice rough.

“Who says I'm in a disguise?” Kaito asks. “This is who I am.” It's freeing to finally say that to someone. It doesn't matter if he judges him; he doesn’t care what he thinks.

“You're not a woman,” the detective says, tapping his throat. But he sounds uncertain.

Kaito leans even further in, whispering against the shell of his ear, “Am I not?”

The detective pushes him away, face competing with the remnants of the sunrise. Such a pretty shade of red.

“Are you?” he says.

“Sometimes,” Kaito admits. “Why? Would that bother you?”

“A criminal is still a criminal regardless,” the detective says.

“But you let me go,” Kaito points out.

“You were whispering in my ear like we were—”

“—Intimate?” Kaito asks, drawing out the word, letting it linger on his lips. “Was it too much?” he asks, tilting his head.

“You’re a man,” he says like he’s reminding himself of that fact.

“Sometimes,” Kaito repeats.

“And you’re a thief.” His voice is firmer.

“Sometimes there are things the law can’t touch. The mother who stabs and kills the would-be murderer to save her child? Even the law has allowances for self-defense."

“Wrong is still wrong,” the detective insists. “There is nothing noble about stealing. Are you trying to say you have some sort of noble cause? Thieving in self-defense? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Kaito laughs. “There are worse things.”

“You’re a thief," he repeats, and his voice is strange. It makes Kaito uneasy.

“And you’re a detective,” Kaito says. He shoots him a glare. “Oh, I just thought we were stating the obvious.”

“You’re annoying," he says, and he kisses him.

Kaito freezes as the detective’s hands come to cradle his face, brushing the sweep of his cheek. Kaito’s unsure how to react at first, but before the detective can pull away, he slides his arms around him, pressing against him, returning the kiss tentatively. Kaito doesn’t lose himself in the kiss; this could be a plot to entrap him.

The detective has no such reservations, holding tightly to Kaito like he is the thing keeping the world together. He kisses him again, sucks at his bottom lip, tracing it with his tongue. Kaito’s surprise only grows as the detective falls against him, forcing Kaito to take a step back to bear his weight.

It has a desperate sort of intensity attached to it, and Kaito is not at all sure of the meaning behind it. Those pointed statements—had the detective been trying to convince himself all along? Such passion in this kiss, such tenderness.

He pulls away finally, a smear of scarlet on his lips. Kaito licks his thumb, wiping the lipstick away as the detective shivers.

“Something you’d like to tell me?” Kaito asks finally, a bit breathless.  

“I-I’ll let you go just this once,” the detective says, looking away. “Don’t let me catch you again.”

“Or what? You’ll kiss me senseless?” Kaito says, amused.

The forgotten soccer ball bounces against the side of the wall with a loud _thonk_ , leaving a large crack. Kaito laughs, amused, but he’s already grabbed his shoes in one hand and dashed to the edge. He salutes, then throws himself off the building (in reality down to the emergency stairs and off the landing)

He's still so much fun to tease.


End file.
